Gift
by Asul
Summary: Unrequited love and heavy guilt haunt Touma on his special day...And then Eiri calls...Focus on Touma. Oneshot. Rated M for mild shounen ai.


The very very very first fan fiction I write and finsih and it's about Touma! And I thought I was a Shuichi fan! Actually, this was written long ago just after Touma's birthday on Nov. 2003. I re-read it today and thought it was decent enough to post. Maybe I'll make more! Gasps in mock surprise…Is thrashed by tomato-wielding audience…Or maybe not? Well, I'm not so surprised that this was done in a day or two…Just because I was under the pressure of finishing it on time for Tohma-kun's birthday! and in fact, I missed it!

:Edit: I must admit that Shuichi x Yuki is my favorite couple. This was an unplanned fanfic. And perhaps it turned out well because I empathize with Touma. I turned in this fanfiction at http/ a site naughtily dedicated to **Gravitation** by Maki Murakami. I was under the pen name of _Madrigal_. So if you've read it before, thanks. I spell-checked this recently but I wrote it about three years ago and didn't want to change that much from it because it is a novice work and I see it fit to stay that way. It is tweaked a bit since I discovered some agonizing grammar and spelling errors. Otherwise, it remains the same.

Reviews are most certainly welcome. Thank you.

* * *

**Gift**

The languid blue gaze swept across the neat and spacious office, dispassionately surveying the perfection that has been so neatly prepared and waited for him to occupy each day. It was one of those rare occasions that the young platinum-blond man finished his work early. All files stood in a nice stack on one side of his desk, already signed and read twice. His acts were together in their perspective recording rooms and meetings. Yet something bothered him. As though there was something he had forgotten.

Touma Seguchi, former keyboardist of Nittle Grasper and now the producer of NG records, had been so accustomed to work that he could never find any means to spend his free time less efficiently and more contentedly. Usually he spent such times working on future assignments, or planning the rest of the week. Not to mention making a certain pink-haired boy's life the living picture of hell. A small one-sided smile crept to his lips at the irritatingly adorable boy that was the company's newest sensation. And winning rival in love. Now he leaned back on his leather chair, sighing with half relief and half exasperation. He was lost. Heaven forbid he should go home to an empty house this afternoon. His lovely wife was off to wreak havoc upon her youngest brother. He shuddered at the boy's inevitable fate. Tatsuha had snuck out from his brother Eiri's apartment in the middle of the night to rendezvous with Ryuuichi. God knows where they'd went. But at least he had, although drunkenly, returned to Eiri's apartment the next morning.

Eiri.

The young producer pensively threaded his long and graceful fingers together—the same fingers that had produced unbelievable melodies for Nittle Grasper. His lethargic expression turned into a slight frown of unease. Resting his elbows on the cool glass surface of his desk, he leaned his chin on his fingers. Eiri. The name held such power over him. There were many memories embedded with it…And deep gut-wrenching guilt. He could remember Eiri as the youth that had trusted him. The carefree one. The shy one. Images of the sweet innocent face of the friend he knew and loved flooded, overpowering him. He closed his eyes. The pictures cracked and broke into a thousand pieces. He was drowning again.

The ringing of his cell phone brought him back, saving him from his demons.

"Moshi moshi." Touma automatically answered without checking the caller ID. Very few ever called his cell phone during lunch.

"Sachoo." A familiar deep voice playfully mocked on the other end.

For an instant, his heart stopped—then he regained his composure just as quickly as he'd lost it.

"Eiri." The name was half-whispered. He hated it that this one man alone can topple his equanimity and make a child of him. But he loved this feeling as well.

"Oh. Now you remember." A sardonic tone this time. It didn't keep his voice from being any less heavenly.

He found himself beaming madly. He could feel the blush that quietly rushed to his face. There was no stopping to the feeling it held. "I'm a busy man, _Uesugi-san_. May I ask what your business is?" He joked, his tone only half-serious.

"You answered in only two rings. You're not busy at all, Seguchi-_san_." The man punctuated his sentence with the polite suffix. Tohma could hear Eiri's small lopsided smile on the other side. The producer gently chuckled.

"Meet me at that American restaurant you love so much. Let's have lunch. It's been a while, ne?" The object of his undying affections wanted to meet with him!

Touma chuckled. "Hai. I'm actually free right now. I'll meet you there in fifteen minutes."

"Aa. Jaa."

"Jaa." He replaced his phone into his breast pocket, humming his former band's song Silent Beauty as he adjusted his blue tie into his orange-gold vest. Then his thoughts turned dark. What was Eiri planning? The last time they had such a lunch was so long ago he could barely remember. His not remembering anything of a previous lunch made him feel queasy. Had he been overworking Shindou lately? No. Just gave him a hard time like always. So this could not possibly about Shindou. It wasn't the anniversary of the death of Yuki Kitazawa either. _Yeah, Eiri's about to confess his undying love for me. Sure. _He shook all his anxieties away, the goofy grin returned and never faded from his child-like face as he put on his jacket and left his cold immaculate office.

* * *

"Happy Birthday." Eiri stood up from the booth to greet him, taking off his sunglasses and smiling adorably at him. He was wearing a crisp white long sleeve shirt, untucked but hugging the right areas. His sophistication was completed with black slacks and polished black shoes. A beauty like Eiri can look like a god even if he was dressed in nothing but dirt.

Touma's mind rewound the whole scene to remember what Eiri had said. Happy Birthday. He looked blankly at his friend. Confused. Today was…November 20th! So that's what he'd forgotten! How could he have forgotten his own birthday! He laughed. The same laugh he had years ago. Before the incident with Kitazawa. Before he corrupted Eiri's simple life in Kyoto. He scratched the back of his head, grinning sheepishly.

"You forgot again, didn't you?" Eiri pointed out. That fact bothered neither of them. His smile was gone now. Only a trace of it was in his eyes. Together they sat down at the red leather booth by the window. It was a dinette that served hamburgers and fries. Their American experience tied them intricately.

"You're always there to remind me." Touma smiled sweetly, thankful.

* * *

Lunch was…peaceful. He had turned off his cell phone to keep them uninterrupted. And at the insistence of Eiri. They were an odd sight simply because they were overdressed at such a casual place. It was a miracle neither of them were noticed. Infamous in their careers, it was sheer luck to move amongst the masses without being swallowed up by fans. Then again, they had sat at the farthest, most empty corner of the diner in the first place. It didn't matter. His birthday was not forgotten. His wife usually remembered later in the day. It was a polite ritual that she gave him a gift. But nothing mattered now. Eiri had been there with him. Eating lunch and exchanging sarcasm. And now he was in Eiri's apartment. Eiri had forgotten his real gift at his apartment. He'd rushed out without thinking about it. Tohma wished it was something else. Some excuse for a more promising naughtiness. Tut-tut. His imagination moved too fast for him to catch up.

Of course such fantasies immediately dissipated when he saw the condition of the luxurious apartment. A few boxes were scattered around the living room: Nittle Grasper CDs and DVDs strewn across the coffee table and Strawberry Pocky Stick cartons were everywhere. A blanket was carelessly tossed on one side of the couch as though someone had woken up late and was in a rush to leave. Signs of Shuichi Shindou's existence put Touma in his place. His fantasies crumbled. _Naughty, naughty._ He chided himself in his head while plopping onto the couch.

"Sorry about the mess. Shuichi had to leave early this morning." Eiri appeared before him, holding out a moderately sized golden box tied with a silver ribbon. That lopsided smile showed at last, Tohma didn't need to imagine it anymore.

He saw his own hands catch it awkwardly. His fingers were almost shaking in eagerness as he untied the ribbon. He dug his hands into the tissue and held out a pair of dark blue velvet gloves. On the inside wrist of the right hand glove were a T.S. elegantly embellished in golden thread.

"You've been wearing the same pair all the time; I thought you needed new ones."

He looked at it, beaming delightedly and sadly at his friend. Eiri meant no harm. It was he who made things worse for himself. He translated it as a reminder of his sins. Touma looked at his pale hands, now trembling, the gloves had long slipped from them. The same fingers that had brought Eiri into danger, into Kitazawa's hands, belonged to him. It killed him to know that. He wondered how such dirty hands had crafted beautiful music and now successfully produced for others when it was tainted with such grime.

"You know how hard it is to shop for a guy who's got everything?" Eiri snickered, folding his arms. He noticed his friend's trembling hands. "Stop that." Eiri's voice called him back from his thoughts. It sounded comforting and warm.

Touma saw Eiri looking at him with that same expressionless face he showed everyone. Yet his amber eyes held a concern Touma longed he could feel everyday. He wanted to be always with Eiri. To live here with him. Not with his obsession's sister. He could feel his gaze never leaving him. Burning him. Only it didn't burn him. He burned himself with it. Was he going mad with the love of his life to fall witness? _Stop that._ Eiri's words echoed again. Eiri had always saved him from his destructive self, the one who was never in control. He owed Eiri so much it hurt. He wanted to cry. To fall apart. But that was a risk Touma would not take today. Not on his own birthday. Or any other day for that matter. Eiri would blame himself if he did. What had Eiri done but look up to him once long ago? And it almost killed him. Perhaps it did. His golden eyes held scars that could never be erased…

He grinned sheepishly at his friend. "Just reminds me of old times, is all."

The writer did not respond to his words. In fact, he did not believe him. He knew him too much to afford to accept brush-off like that. A golden brow cocked in uncertainty.

Touma threw up his hands in defeat. "Ok, so I was feeling jealous of Shindou. Happy?" He smiled this time, hoping to quell whatever worries he'd invoked from his love. He wondered if it looked forced. But it worked. Eiri simply let it go. And that hurt. He could feel a knife being twisted in his chest. It hurt that Eiri could not see through his pretense. No--it wasn't that. It hurt deceiving him like that so he could be happy. A sigh escaped his lips.

Eiri frowned. "Watching you gives me a headache."

Touma patted the empty seat beside him on the couch. "Plenty of room." He was flirting now. Eiri played along. He lay down on the couch, resting his head on his friend's lap. _This feels nice. _Tohma thought. "Thank you, for today." He said, lovingly massaging Eiri's scalp. His hands no longer felt dirty entangled in the man's pure gold locks. He felt equally serene.

"Hmm." It was the only answer he got. They stayed like that until Eiri fell asleep

Touma never felt this peace anywhere. Being with Eiri filled that hole in him that he could never find. "Ne, Eiri, you're happier now aren't you?" Touma whispered to the angelic face below him. He allowed his hand to feel the smooth skin of Eiri's cheek. He smiled; a genuine smile. At this moment, his friend looked exactly as he had when they were mere teenagers. So young. So fragile. The grief mixed in his love for him. Infecting it like jealousy did. Like guilt and bitterness did. He accepted the feelings knotted with his love, tired of pushing them away. "I love you." It was a whisper, half-choked. It felt good to let that out. He felt the weight being lifted off of him, although not entirely. "You're wrong, Eiri. I don't have everything." He bent slowly, gently covering the other man's sweet mouth with his own to steal a kiss. "Being with you is the only gift I ever need."

* * *

Fin


End file.
